


Compass Points You Home

by foldingcranes



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain America #700, Getting Together, M/M, References to Depression, Road Trips, Secret Empire (Marvel), post-Hydra Cap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 07:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foldingcranes/pseuds/foldingcranes
Summary: Dear Sharon, Steve thinks, almost with maddening euphoria, stumbling over some rocks as the waves lap at him and his body finally gives itself to shock.You’re not going to believe what happened today.Then, he passes out.





	Compass Points You Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Takkun (Takeshi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takeshi/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Art for Team Victory: RBB 2018](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841104) by [Takkun (Takeshi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takeshi/pseuds/Takkun). 



> This fic was written for the Cap-Iron Man 2018 Reverse Bang challenge, inspired by [Takeshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takeshi/pseuds/Takkun)'s AMAZING [art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841104). Takkun, you were an amazing RBB partner and thank you so much for being patient with me and I'm so glad I met you through this event so we could become pals!
> 
> I also want to thank my friends [stuffy_j](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffy_j/pseuds/stuffy_j) and [DryDreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryDreams/pseuds/DryDreams) for beta reading this for me. Thank you so much, Ju and Katie!!!

Steve closes his eyes underwater—it’s just for a moment. One short, painful moment and nothing else. It’s all he can afford as the smoke from the burning Rampart ship colors the sky grey.

This is his gift to himself. This is his way of tricking his own mind; of thinking, _I’ve done it. I’ve stopped time. I’ve grounded myself. No more back and forth_

The water is cold. Steve goes numb under it, wondering how much longer he can go without breathing. Wondering how much longer he can hide there, among coral and algae, until he disappears into the sea like a lost anchor. Until he forgets about the grief and loss of living through New America.

Until he _stops_.

(“You know what your problem is,” Steve spat at Tony’s face, once. Angry words that left him seething, hands curled up into fists until his knuckles hurt. _“You never know how to stop.”_ )

Steve looks up. A single bubble leaves his mouth and that’s how he knows his way up, a ray of light guiding him towards the surface of the water. It’s probably fire.

When he resurfaces, lungs burning from lack of air and heart still thumping wildly against his chest, everything is very, very still. Most of the Rampart goons boarding the ship died in the explosion or jumped ship before that, drowning after everything fell apart. Saltwater making his eyes sting, Steve blinks a couple of times before deciding that he’s probably going into shock.

He’s also bone-deep tired, having just lived more than a year in a strange, not so far away land. One that will never exist, now. A future erased, but not forgotten. With that thought in mind, Steve throws a last look to the remains of the ship and swims back to the cliff. The way back to the city’s going to be a long one and he can’t, for the life of him, remember where the last spot he parked his bike was.

 _Dear Sharon_ , Steve thinks, almost with maddening euphoria, stumbling over some rocks as the waves lap at him and his body finally gives itself to shock. _You’re not going to believe what happened today._

Then, he passes out.

 

-

 

There’s a memory playing in Steve’s head. A picture engraved behind his eyes that will fade as soon as Steve opens them. Not a dream, but a memory. It’s a quiet morning in the different kitchens in his life, the smells of coffee and bacon, the warmth of sunshine. Lips are pressed to his temple. Sometimes they’re soft, sometimes they’re a little dry. Steve’s never sure who’s going to be there, holding a mug of coffee and a smile for him, until he’s about to wake up. At times it’s Sharon, fresh out of a shower, golden hair dripping wet, looking ready to start the day. And, some other times, it’s Tony, with messy bedhead and eyes bleary with sleep but a smile so soft it can only belong to him.

Steve’s heart leaps and beats violently faster every time he sees him and then, as awareness comes and sleepiness vanishes, longing squeezes his heart and seizes over it until it pains him. Until there’s no other thing to do but to stop thinking about it.

Thinking about Tony never stops hurting, these days. Before Steve’s mind was violated, before he was made into a vessel of destruction and an inversion of his own self, the only emotion Steve could feel towards Tony had been… anger. The way things ended between them still hurts, even to this day. Even after Steve has become well acquainted with what it means to be mind controlled. Still, the pain that comes from old wounds seems muted in comparison. The guilt he’s been feeling has made Steve direct most of his anger at himself. An emotionally tiring shift that has allowed him to finally grieve over the state of most of his current relationships.

With those depressing thoughts in mind, Steve chooses to finally, fully wake up.

That’s when he realizes that, one: the last thing he remembers is passing out on a beach; and two: he’s in a hotel room, resting on an actual bed with a soft pillow under his head and a blanket covering his body. At least, he’s still wearing his uniform, which means that no one has undressed him. He quickly reaches for his shield, which lays right next to his bed and raises himself into a sitting position, ready to find out if someone else is there in that room when—

_Tony._

Tony steps into the room. He raises his arms as soon as he sees Steve’s defensive position, showing him that he’s unarmed. He’s wearing jeans and a sweater that looks too big on him, something that would probably have fit him perfectly before he fell into a coma. “Hey,” Tony says, sheepish. “Surprise?”

“What are you doing here?” Steve blurts out, lowering his shield. Relieved, he falls back to the bed, sitting in a more relaxed position. Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. There are shadows under his eyes and he looks exhausted, but that’s not rare for him. “What… when did you wake up?”

“A while ago,” Tony admits. He sits at the end of the bed, blue eyes fixed on Steve. The smell of coffee permeates the room, like a lingering trace out of Steve’s dreams. It’s a nice, normal looking motel room. “I woke up, I… well. Riri brought me up to date.”

“Okay,” Steve swallows hard, heart beating harder. “That doesn’t answer the question, though. How did you end up here of all places, Tony? With _me_?”

Tony seems to pause before speaking, staring at his hands with a frown. His whole seems to deflate as he sighs then, looking defeated. “I’ve been tracking you,” he replies, honestly. “When I woke up from the coma… I downloaded my AI’s memories, to know what I had missed. He was programmed to deliver those memories to me. I didn’t want things to be like the time I wiped my memory clean. I wanted to be aware of everything.”

Steve closes his eyes, breathing deeply. He curls his hands into fists until his fingernails are leaving marks on the palm of his hands. “So, you know.”

“Yes.”

“Everything.”

 _Everything_ echoes in his head. _Everything_ and Steve’s mind goes back to that cold chamber at SHIELD, to the ghost impulse of opening the pod which housed Tony and trying to force him back to the living world. To his other self mocking Steve’s feelings for Tony. _He loved you_.

That’s the part of Steve that screams at him to turn the other way. To drive Tony away. To lower his head in shame in his presence. That… other version of Steve stole from them. And looking at Tony only makes Steve feel like they’re never getting that something back.

“You need to go,” Steve says. Tony shakes his head and gets up, leaving the room soon after. And that’s it. That’s all. Steve is left alone to contemplate his own self-loathing and loneliness.

… Only for Tony to come back mere minutes later, holding a plate with a sandwich in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. His eyes are soft when he walks to Steve to offer him the food and he’s careful, as if not to spook Steve. “You didn’t let me finish, Steve.”

“What’s there to say?” Steve accepts the mug of coffee, hands cradling the warm ceramic. “You shouldn’t be here at all. If you did download your AI’s memories into your brain then you know everything, Tony. Everything I did.”

(If he closes his eyes, if he tries to sleep at night, Steve can still see Natasha falling.)

“Steve,” Tony grabs his own cup of coffee. It’s dark and probably sugarless, just the way Tony likes it. “I’m here because I’ve been where you are now. And it’s not—pretty. At all. I don’t want you to live this by yourself, I don’t want you to feel alone and guilty for things that you were _forced_ to do. Things that were out of your control.”

Steve stays silent, drinking a sip of coffee. It’s already tepid.

There’s no way to escape this conversation and no way to make Tony see how wrong he is. How to make him see that Steve is responsible for destruction and grief. That carrying with the consequences of the last year has become almost unbearable and all Steve can do is run.

“I’m not going back,” Steve speaks, finally. His voice is firm and he’s grinding his teeth, muscles taut with tension. He’s expecting Tony to argue. He’s expecting Tony to shake his head, looking disappointed, and leave.

“Okay,” Tony arches an eyebrow at him. “Then, I’m going with you.”

Steve’s not expecting Tony to _stay_.

 

-

 

Their first stop together is in D.C.

Against Steve’s wishes, Tony purchases a new motorbike for Steve and completely ignores Steve’s protests about money and spending. “Who do you think?” Tony asks, a crooked smile on his gaunt face and a credit card in his hand, “Who do you think has been financing most of your trip?”

“I should have known,” Steve slumps defeated. “There was more money than usual in my bank account.”

Tony’s smile grows wider.

They stop by a _Five Guys_ near George Washington University so they can recharge before going to shop for supplies. Their conversation is stilted and tight, a heavy silence weighed down them. Nostalgia hits Steve right in the chest and he longs for simpler, gentler times. He longs for things with Tony to be easier.

“So,” Tony says, his elbow poised on the table and his chin resting on his hand. “If I order a milkshake and drink from a straw while you eat a burger, will that bring back enough memories?”

Steve blinks then, almost carefully, releases a warm, low chuckle. “You’d have to wear one of your old armors for that.”

Tony laughs. “Fair enough! It’s just… nice, you know? To do something like that again. We used to go out and eat together all the time, back then. It was really good.”

“It was,” Steve whispers. The smile falls from his face and he lowers his eyes, choosing to fiddle with his napkin. “A lot has happened since then.”

“Yeah.” Tony replies. “We used to be good. I know.”

 _Used to,_ Steve thinks, and it’s such a sad way to see it. For a second, he thinks he can see his own longing reflected in Tony’s tired blue eyes and he wants to believe it. He wants to believe that they can yearn for the same things at the same time, to be in sync like they used to be, once, a long time ago. When they were young and quicker to forgive each other.

He snaps out of his thoughts when the waitress serves them their food and realizes that he doesn’t remember ordering anything. When he notices that his burger is topped with an egg and contains bacon, he can’t help but throw a traitorous fond look at Tony.

“You ordered for me.”

Tony shrugs. “You were distracted.”

“It’s my favorite,” Steve insists. “I can’t believe you still remember it. You always… you always remember so many little details about me.”

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” Tony says, flushed. A moment later, the waiter comes back and leaves a big milkshake in front of Tony.

Steve shoots him a surprised smile as Tony grabs a straw and winks. “I thought I’d ask for one. For old times’ sake.”

  
  


-

  
  


_Dear Sharon,_

_The air in Pittsburgh it’s so humid, it’s like breathing water. I know how much you hated it and Tony agrees with you but I wanted to see the bridges. (Tony doesn’t agree, though. I can’t get him to stop calling Pittsburgh “Shittsburgh.”)_

Bridges are a little too metaphorical for Steve. Especially when it comes to Tony. Theirs is a story about destroying and rebuilding bridges.

Too many bridges.

They stop at Fort Pitt Bridge only so Steve can pull aside, contemplate the river. Stretch his legs for a bit. They have been traveling on his new motorcycle, Tony sitting behind him. His arms firm and strong around Steve’s middle. Tony seems lighter than before. Everything about him says fragile as if he had woken up from the coma and just walked away from his pod and towards Steve without a second thought. He tires easily and sometimes he quickly runs out of breath. He sleeps a lot during the night and it’s hard for Steve to wake him up in the mornings. He’s pale and thin, hair just starting to grow back from being shaved. In a way, it transports Steve back to the days after the mindwipe, when he came back to life only to find Tony connected to multiple machines that forced him to stay alive.

Sometimes, Steve dreams about that, too. He dreams of pulling the plug. He dreams of watching Tony’s solemn face on the video that offered Steve the tools to resuscitate him and choosing to let him die.

Steve’s nightmares begin and end with Tony. Always.

There, on that bridge, with the breeze carding through his air and Tony’s arms around him. There, with Tony’s chin on his shoulder and Steve’s fingers curled around his bike’s handles, Steve only knows one thing: he’s tired. And he misses peace.

He misses this. He wants the quietness back. He wants the closeness and the easiness of that year Tony spent lying to him. The more Steve looks back at those memories, the calmer his anger becomes. It doesn’t vanish. It doesn’t magically go away. But Steve can _breathe_ again and it’s all he needs, for now.

  
  


-

  
  


In Indianapolis, Eagle Creek Park is tall trees and chirping birds, children and families enjoying the chilly weather of autumn, copper-colored leaves making crunching noises under their boots. Tony’s wearing at least three layers of clothing and Steve still worries about him, wondering, not for the first time, if he shouldn’t have allowed him to join him on this trip.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Tony interrupts him. They stop next to a small pond populated by ducks. “I know the face you make when you’re worried.”

“I just want to know,” Steve licks his lips, unsure. He sits on a park bench, expecting Tony to do the same. “I want to know the real reason. _Why_ are you really here, Tony.”

“Okay,” Tony says, calmly. He sits next to Steve, his left thigh close to Steve’s right. “It’s not as complex as you think it is.”

Tony breathes deeply. He seems to steer himself. Appears to be bracing himself for the worst and, for a moment, Steve almost wants to tell him to forget it. It’d be easy to ask Tony to just keep quiet, to not break the immersion. To not interrupt the flow of the fantasy, those silent hours on the road where they don’t talk and they don’t fight and they just... _exist_.

Tony’s fingers grip the edge of the bench tightly. Steve chooses to focus on them instead of Tony’s face as he speaks. On the tiny nicks and scars scattered over Tony’s knuckles and wrists and then higher, on the soft light of the RT that shines through the material of Tony’s thick parka, a bright reminder of a body that just won’t give up.

“I went to look for you because I remember.”

“We’ve established that.”

“No, Steve,” Tony corrects him and his eyes go heavy with sadness, his whole face twisted into a picture of grief. “I remember. _Everything_. I remember the war.”

“That’s… how?” Steve freezes.

(Steve’s endless list of nightmares seems to come back to him. This time, he’s standing on top of Tony with his shield raised above him. Tony asks him to end it. Steve complies.

And it takes a hard, long look at Tony to understand that no, _that’s not how it went_.)

“I don’t know. Something in my head just… clicked when I downloaded my AI’s memories into my brain. It was like opening a locked vault inside my head,” Tony explains. He’s been staring at the ducks and Steve’s been staring at his hands and they’re just two men who are, after everything, still afraid of disappointing each other. “I remember losing you. I remember this… hole inside my heart, shaped just like you. I remember trying to move on in a world that didn’t make sense anymore.

“I just needed to find you. And tell you. Because now that I remember everything I needed to tell you that… I can’t afford to lose you again. I can’t. And I can’t lose you to _yourself_ , Steve. So, I asked Sharon. I begged her, actually. She told me about your trip and I decided to hijack it and here we are.” Tony smiles, weakly. It’s brittle and subtle, but real.

Overwhelmed, Steve closes his eyes. His eyes feel hot with the sting of tears and he allows himself to cry a little when he feels Tony’s hand resting on his shoulder. “So many times I called you a monster. Turned my back on you. Went at you with everything I had. You made me so angry, Tony.”

“I know.”

“You lied to me. You used me.”

“I know, Steve.”

“But now,” Steve inhales deeply, face and neck flushed. “Now I’m a monster too. And I’m tired, Tony. I’m tired of all this… senseless anger. I’m tired of the nightmares. I’m tired of the crater that used to be Las Vegas and tired of seeing our friends die in my nightmares. I’m tired of feeling like that other me robbed me. I’m tired,” he says, pausing carefully, “of feeling angry at you.”

“I’m not asking you to not be angry at me,” Tony says. He touches Steve’s cheek gently, brushing away some of the wetness. “But I do want you to know that I’ve missed you. And that I need you, Steve. I'm not half as good at--at anything as I am when I'm doing it next to you, remember?”

The cold has turned their noses red and Steve can see steam coming out of Tony’s mouth when he talks. It’s getting chillier and chillier and Steve’s never been a really big fan of the cold, considering his circumstances, but he can’t bring himself to move.

And yet.

And yet he leans forward and presses his lips against Tony’s in a delicate, almost fleeting kiss.

It’s more than enough to warm him up.

  
  


-

  
  


They stop in Denver for a night, knowing that their road trip is nearing its end. Tony books them a room at a bed & breakfast. There’s only one bed and this new, fleeting and fragile thing between them feels too delicate to try to test it but Steve is tired and sore and Tony’s body is still weak from waking up from a coma and so, they have to make do. It’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before. After more than a decade of knowing each other, Steve is well acquainted with Tony’s body and, as he lies with him in bed, he grieves and feels nostalgic for the things they didn’t get to have before. For all the times they could have kissed and didn’t. For all the times they broke apart in anger and hurt.

His body fits Tony’s perfectly, like they belong to a matching set. His arms feel at home around Tony’s waist and their legs are tangled together. Neither of them can't asleep, not like this. Not with something as big as _this_ going on.

“Hey,” Tony whispers, smiling, his forehead pressed against Steve’s, an almost conspiratory look on his face. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Is it a good one?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“Your point of view, I guess,” Tony hums. “The truth is that… I never thought I’d have this.”

Steve’s heart seems to freeze inside his chest, aching with sadness. “I never thought you’d _want_ this.”

Tony snorts. “So many years wasted. I guess we really do suck at communicating,” his face softens and he brings a hand to Steve’s hair, gently carding it through his fingers. “This doesn’t feel real, you know?”

“This is real, Tony,” Steve reassures him, firmly. “I’m here and so are you. Hell, before you found me on that beach I had just come back from an alternate future. I was lost, I came back and then there you were. Just like when you found me in the ice.”

“When you spend so many years wishing for something you can’t have,” Tony says. “You convince yourself that it’s impossible. That’s how things are, you’re never having it and now--”

He doesn’t let Tony finish. Steve kisses him first deeply and slowly, still trying to commit the feel of Tony’s lips to memory. Then it’s open-mouthed and messy and his hands search hungrily for every corner of Tony’s body, every bit of skin they can find and touch. He rolls Tony on his back and settles on top of him. A lack of air forces them apart and soon, Tony’s surprising him by rolling Steve onto his back and sitting on his lap, leaning forward for another kiss. His hair is a bit longer now but not long enough to be curly yet. Tony’s eyelashes are long and dark and his eyes are too bright, brighter than any other eyes Steve’s seen. Or maybe he’s just romantic. Maybe he’s desperately clinging to the comfort offered by Tony’s body and this love that seems newfound and so old at the same time. Maybe this is Steve’s way of getting lost and letting go and forcing himself to forget what was done to his mind. Because Tony understands. Tony knows him fully. Tony has looked at the deepest, saddest parts of Steve and still have looked at Steve with admiration and affection.

Maybe Steve will never forgive Tony for wiping his memories. But he can love him again because the truth is that Steve never stopped.

_He loved you._

Steve allows himself to fall in love with Tony again, and to hope. And to take back the things that his other self tried to take from them. He undresses Tony with eagerness and presses a smile against the crook of his neck. He touches the firm planes of Tony’s abdomen and feels the muscle flutter, rests a palm over Tony’s chest and feels his heartbeat accelerate. For him. For Steve.

A lifetime ago, this wouldn’t have been possible. But Steve is a lost man now and Tony has come looking for him. Just to bring him home. Just to let him know that it’s okay to feel like this.

They come together despite the anger and the challenges, despite everything that has kept them apart during the course of the last year. Steve slides inside Tony slowly and reverently and stays very still, basking in Tony’s warmth, feeling like he belongs there. Feeling like he’s just coming home, with Tony’s hands on both of his cheeks and Tony’s lips on his chin and Tony’s body surrounding him so perfectly.

“Hey, soldier,” Tony smiles, leaning over him, Steve pulsing inside him. He’s straddling Steve’s lap, not moving yet. He solves that by rolling his hips, making Steve groan.

“Hey, you,” Steve answers. He reaches for Tony’s face, then buries his fingers on Tony’s soft, dark hair, watching as Tony closes his eyes and hums. “We could have done this a long time ago.”

“Mmm,” Tony smiles, but it’s sad again. It’s too easy for him to go back to that. “We could have. I’m sorry, I should--”

“Don’t,” Steve shushes him. He grabs Tony’s hips, thumbs the hard bone under the soft skin. “This is on both of us and I can’t-- I can’t go there. I can’t get lost thinking about all we could have had or all the things we could have done together, Tony.”

“Okay. I have the perfect solution for that,” Tony says. Then, he leans down again and kisses Steve on the corner of his lips. And, for a brief, wonderful moment, all is well again.

  
  


-

  
  


“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tony leans against the door frame of their latest motel room. He’s wearing one of Steve’s shirt, which sends a thrill down his spine. Like this, Steve needs to take a moment to appreciate all the little details about Tony: how much his hair has grown during the trip, how he has put on some weight. How he seems less and less tired and maybe, just _maybe_ … a little bit more at peace.

“I do.” Steve answers. He’s almost done getting dressed, reluctant to even leave the room. This is the last stop for their trip. This is the thing Steve needs to do in order to go home and rebuild. This is what Steve needs to accept and acknowledge, it’s what he needs to mourn in order to feel like himself again.

“Then I’m coming with you,” Tony echoes his own words from the start of the trip, eyes resolute. They finish getting ready in silence and exit the motel without going for breakfast, agreeing to grab it down the road. Steve doesn’t think he can eat in his current state. He climbs on his motorcycle then waits for Tony to do the same, his arms wrapping firmly around Steve’s middle, his cheek resting on Steve’s back. Once again, they fit each other so perfectly it seems like a joke.

They arrive by the afternoon. It’s a windy, almost cold day. Steve allows Tony to step down of the motorcycle, then he does the same. They both lean against it, standing still on the side of the road, surrounded by vast nothingness, eyes fixed on a single thing: the enormous space that used to be Las Vegas.

“Before Hydra razed this city to the ground,” Steve breaks the silence, “this… people lived there. People died here. And I don’t know how to deal with so much destruction. Even admitting this hurts.”

“Steve--”

“No, just-- I can’t see it. I can’t see going back to my old life. I can’t see myself becoming an Avenger again. Not after what _he_ did. I can’t do it.”

Tony steps away from the bike, standing in front of Steve. He grabs one of Steve’s hands and runs his thumb down the back of it. At some point, it starts to rain, but it takes a while for Steve to notice it. It’s just too subtle and Tony’s right in front of him. Trying to help him bear his pain. And there’s nothing else for Steve, nothing else to think about or to feel. Just grief. And the need to cling to Tony in an attempt to make it all better.

“Look at me. _Please_ .” Tony begs. “You can move past this. You’re not _him_ , Steve. And the people whose lives he destroyed? They need you. The Avengers need you. _I_ need you.”

The sunset is starting to set, painting everything in colorful orange. Rain is still falling, plastering Tony’s wet hair to his forehead, clumping his eyelashes together. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, god. I’m such a hypocrite. But,” Tony hesitates, then grabs the lapels of Steve’s jacket, “you need to forgive yourself, Steve.”

“How?” Steve croaks. “How?”

“By accepting that that wasn’t you,” Tony explains, voice gentle. “That wasn’t you. That wasn’t Captain America. Hydra didn’t make you. They didn’t own you. And you’re going to pick up the pieces and rebuild, anyway. Just like we always do. Because that’s what we do, Steve. We rebuild, over and over again.”

Wanda. The War. The Incursions. Hydra.

Steve’s so tired of rebuilding.

“We almost destroyed each other at least twice.” Tony continues talking. “And we’re still here. Can you believe that shit, Steve?” He laughs, and it gets a smile out of Steve. “I woke up from that coma, went home, listened to Riri’s recount of everything that happened while I was gone. Downloaded my AI’s memories before shutting it off and when I remembered the war… I thought I was going to be sick. I felt the grief of losing you. I remembered telling you it wasn’t worth it and realizing that, no matter what happens, I’m always going to want you back. I’ll always need you, Steve. And you know why?”

Steve’s chest feels almost too warm. His heart is beating harder, faster, louder than ever before, and he can’t look away from Tony’s sincere eyes. “Why”

Tony cradles his cheek. His eyes are wet from tears, not from the rain. “Because I love you. I have loved you. Since the beginning. I love you.”

“I don’t deserve that love,” Steve whispers, a sob breaking out of him.

“That used to be me, whenever I dreamed about you loving me,” Tony sighs, then the smile comes back to his face in full swing. He tilts his head slowly and kisses Steve on the lips, then backs away gingerly just to look at Steve.

And that’s when Steve knows. That’s when Steve realizes what’s going to drive him back home.

“I love you,” Steve says, watching Tony’s stunned face. “God, Tony. I love you so much. Even when I’m angry at you. Even when you drive me crazy. I love you, too.”

He grabs Tony’s chin and leans forward, for another kiss. Less slow and careful, but more tender. Sweeter. It feels like a new beginning. When they’re done, he rests his forehead against Tony’s and beams at him, feeling hopeful.

“Wanna go home, Shellhead?”

Tony’s breathing hitches, a joyful grin blooming on his beautiful face. The sun is almost gone but his face is the one thing that shines the brightest for Steve.

“More than anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can yell at me [here](https://twitter.com/foldingcranes/).


End file.
